The Tragic Mistake
by AmeliaBlair
Summary: Original Sherlock. The Reigate Puzzle during Sherlock's sick-room stay. John comes by for a visit while Sherlock is ill, though it causes a new kind of sickness. Rated T for safety. First Johnlock fic.


The sick-room at the Hotel Dulong was clean and simple, though Sherlock Holmes had still managed to add his flair to the room in his short

time there. He had managed to keep most of his case work on one nightstand beside him, though it threatened to fall off the tabletop and

onto the floor. Sherlock was hungrily eating his breakfast the nursemaid had brought for him when a knock was heard at the door.

"Come in" he said, mouth nearly full of food.

Dr. John Watson stepped in, fixing his mustache with a nod.

"Watson, my friend" Sherlock greeted cheerily. "I see you've returned."

"Indeed I have, Holmes" Watson replied, giving him a small smile as he pulled up a chair beside him. "Are you feeling better?"

"I am" Sherlock replied, "Thank you for your presence here."

"It is my pleasure" Watson replied. "Has the nurse said anything?"

"Only that I should rest."

"Hm" Watson grunted in reply.

The room was silent for a few minutes, and John felt it grow increasingly awkward, though he knew not why.

"Watson, old chap?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, Holmes?"

"Would you mind sending for the maid?" He glanced up to the switch beside his bed.

"Of course" he replied, "Though I don't see why you can't do it."

"I am a sick man, Watson" Sherlock joked with a twinkle in his eye.

John looked at him and looked at him suspiciously. "Are you all right, Holmes?" he asked as he got up to ring the maid's bell.

"I'm fine, Watson" he said with a scarcely audible gulp. John and he were mere inches from each other.

"Are you sure, Holmes? You seem completely out of sorts and I-" John stopped as he noticed Sherlock's eyes on his lips.

"I say, Holmes! Are you all-"

"John" Sherlock breathed, his eyes still on his lips.

John was taken aback by what he had said. Not once had Sherlock ever called him by his first name, nor had he ever looked at him the way he

did. It was almost as if-

"Sherlock, pray tell me what you are thinking!" John attempted to examine Sherlock the best that he could.

"John" Sherlock groaned. "With all due respect, I- Oh bloody hell" he exclaimed, as he pressed his lips to John's.

John would have bolted back in surprise if Sherlock's hand hadn't been pressed to the back of his head. He attempted to break the kiss, but

found that Sherlock would not budge. He was stuck.

"Mr. Holmes!" he attempted to say, before Sherlock's tongue made its way inside his mouth.

"Mr..."

Suddenly, John found himself kissing Sherlock back as passionately as he was. His hand went to Sherlock's waist as his other hand supported

him. It was if something had sparked inside of him, something that he could not control-

_Mary. Mary. Mar-_

"Sherlock" John gasped as they broke the kiss and rested their foreheads against each other.

"John, I've needed to tell you this for a long, long time" he breathed, stroking John's cheek.

"I love you, John."

_He loves me? Love? _

_Love._

_Love._

Love.

John shot back from Sherlock. "Mr. Holmes, I-"

Sherlock grabbed John's hand. "Watson, please, allow me to explain-"

"No! What is this, this-" John snapped.

"John, I-"

"

It's Dr. Watson, from now on, thank you" John replied, beginning to walk towards the door to leave.

"Please, Doctor" Sherlock pleaded.

"I am a married man, Mr. Holmes. And what you have done was immoral and completely wrong. I am afraid I must leave. Good day." John

continued to walk to the door.

"You don't understand, John. I know what you are. I saw from the moment I metyou." he said, attempting to stand to go after

him.

"Get back into bed. You're exhausted" John sighed, turning around to face him.

"Think of it, John- Doctor" Sherlock corrected. "Just the two of us against the rest of the world."

John let out another more exasperated sigh."Mr. Holmes, I must get back to my wife. I believe we can both agree to never speak of this

again?"

"John" Sherlock pleaded.

"Doctor Watson" John corrected as he walked into the hallway. "Good day."

"You won't leave" Sherlock said. "I know what you are. I know what you're feeling."

"No, you do _not _know who I am, Mr. Holmes, nor do you know anything pertaining as to what I am thinking. Good day." He shut the door

behind him and leaned against a nearby wall, attempting to piece together what had happened. The maid John had sent for Sherlock came to

the door.

"Are you alright, sir?" she asked.

"I am. Thank you for your consideration, miss" he lied, leaning against the wall again. I shall inform you if I shall be needing any assistance."

She nodded. "Yes sir." She walked into the room.

John breathed heavily, turning around to put his forehead against the wall, then quickly turned around, remembering how Sher- Mr. Holmes

had done so earlier. He paced the hall.

_You love Mary._

_Mary is the only one for you._

_Sherlock Holmes does not matter._

_Sherlock Holmes did not kiss you. _

_You do not love Sherlock Holmes. _

_Sherlock Holmes did not kiss you. _

_Mary is the only one. _

_You love Mary._

_You did not kiss Sherlock Holmes. _

_Mary does kiss you._

_Mary is your wife._

_You love Mary. _

_Mary Morstan is your wife. _

_Sherlock was a better kisser-_

"Stop" he said aloud. "No more!" he exclaimed and walked quickly down the hall and out into the street.

_Sherlock was a better kisser-_

Once out on the street, John quickly rented a cab, where he sat and began to think once more.

_Sherlock Holmes is- was my friend. He was nothing more. Sherlock Holmes was delusional from his exhaustion. He does not love me. I do not love him._

_Not anymore._

* * *

Back at the hotel, Sherlock Holmes' condition worsened. How could he have been wrong? He had been deducing for months. He knew what he

saw, and all other options had been deemed wrong. He was right, and he knew it.

He sat upright in his bed, where a single tear fell down his cheek.

_John Watson is my friend. I wanted him to be something more. John thought I was delusional from exhaustion. He loved me. I love him._

_Not anymore._

* * *

**Sorry about the shitty title. Couldn't think of one. I might change it later. This is my first published Johnlock fic. I know the 19th century writing is shit. Sorry. I tried. I hope you guys liked it. This is my first published fanfiction in ages. **


End file.
